


From Russia With Love (And Misunderstandings)

by PoseidonsUnderpants



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:13:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3394907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoseidonsUnderpants/pseuds/PoseidonsUnderpants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's a Russian exchange student. Natasha's the only one who can understand him. Her translations are only slightly truthful. Actually, they almost never are. She's nice like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know a word of Russian, so I decided instead of messing around with Google Translate, I'd just type all the RUSSIAN IN BOLD, okay?

Bucky was regretting signing up for the exchange already, and he hadn't even been in America for a week. 

He doesn't know what made him want to go in the first place. His English was crap. 

His host family - the Rumlows - had obviously only let him stay for the money, the food all tasted too sickening (though that may be his imagination, or the fact he had only eaten pizza since he had arrived), he couldn't get away with buying alcohol from the corner shop like at home, and most importantly; he was missing his little sister, Rebecca. This was the longest he'd ever been without seeing her, and even though they called every night, it wasn't the same. He missed her crappy jokes and stupid music and having to help her with her maths homework. If she had been with him, he could deal with whatever America threw at him - but she took Dutch as her second language, not English. He was just going to have to handle himself by himself for the next term

Bucky was sitting outside the Headmaster's Office at Marvel High School, half asleep and slowly going insane as the clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously loud. He had been welcomed by the Jeadmaster - Fury was his name - not unkindly, but rushed, making it obvious that he had better things to do than talk to a grumpy seventeen-year-old in a foreign language, though, admittedly, Fury's Russian wasn't all that bad. He had been told that Natasha Romanov, who was the same age as him and the only student in the entire school to speak fluent Russian, was going to meet him at 8:30, which was ten minutes ago.  He was a little pissed at her tardiness, but mostly he was bored.  

Finally at 8:45 a short, red-headed girl strolled into the room. She was curvy and beautiful, with a look in her eyes that was both playful and dangerous. If Bucky was into that thing he probably would have swooned. Alas, he liked boys. He wasn't too hung up about that.

" **Are you James Barnes?** " She asked in perfect Russian.

He gave her a half-smile. " **Depends. Are you Natasha Romanov?** " 

She rolled her eyes. " **Sure am. Sorry I'm late; I had to drag a friend out of a fight. Shall we get going?** " 

He nodded and stood. They awkwardly shook hands, then she started walking and he had no choice but to follow.

 _She doesn't seem too bad,_ the optimistic part of his brain thought.

" **I'll give you a proper tour later, we're late for class right now. You'll be having all your classes with me, and the teachers expect homework to be handed in in English.** How is your English?"

He blinked at her sudden swap of languages. "Uh ... no good?" He winced at his pronunciation, and so did Natasha. 

" **Well ... I'm sure you'll get better the longer you stay here. I couldn't speak any English when I first got here.** " Bucky thinks she's trying to sound reassuring, but she's not very good at it.

" **So you're originally from Russia?** " 

She pursed her lips and nodded, " **my family came here when I was ten. It was for my dad's work.** "

" **Cool.** "

They fell into a companionable silence as he followed her along the corridors, which all looked the same. She finally stopped outside a room with a map of Europe stuck on it.

" **European History.** " 

He groaned. " **So basically History to me? God, this is going to be _fun._ I hate History: It's all so depressing!** "

Natasha raised an eyebrow. " **It could be worse. It could be _Religious Education._** "

He couldn't argue with that. Natasha pushed the door open stepped in, Bucky following after a second. It was going to be okay. He didn't have to speak to anyone. Natasha was nice. Americans couldn't be that bad, right? 

"Ah, you must be James. Welcome to Marvel High. Please take a seat next to Natasha. I am Mr. Phillips, the European History teacher here. Now, class, as I was saying ... "

Bucky only got pieces of what the teacher said, but Natasha tugged on his sleeve and he got the hint to follow her to two empty seats at the back of the class. He got his pencil case out and shrugged off his leather jacket since it was extremely stuffy in the classroom. He chewed on the edge of his pen - he didn't understand how he was supposed to learn if it was all in fucking English. There was a power point going on in the background, and he recognised pictures of Hitler and Stalin. He had done all this last year.

He decided there was no point in listening, and started to scan the room around him. Natasha, on his right, was passing notes to a dark-skinned guy sitting in front of her. The dark-skinned guy was attractive, but guessing by the way he and Natasha were smiling at each other, taken. All in all, four people were sleeping, five were resting their heads in their hands, three were texting under the desk, and a grand total of one paying attention to whatever the teacher was droning on about. Bucky didn't feel too bad about zoning out.

About halfway into the class, the teacher stopped talking and handed out textbooks to the class and a new exercise book for Bucky. He scruffily wrote his name and the class in English on the front of the book. He hadn't recognised any numbers being said, so he sneaked a look at Natasha's book to find out what page to turn to. The font was small and there was long words that Bucky wasn't even going to bother trying to decipher, seeing how he didn't have a dictionary. He figured his safest bet was to continue chewing his pen and staring off into the distance.

"Hey, er ... **Hello?** " 

Bucky, recognising Russian, terrible as it was, turned to look at the guy sitting next to him. He was stocky and had short, sandy hair, and was giving him an expectant look.

"Hello. How are you?" Bucky wanted to ask what did he want, but he didn't know the words.

The guy blinked, "good, thanks. We have to answer a question in pairs ... ?" Bucky gave him a blank look. "Oh, shit, yeah, sorry, no English, huh? Um ... Natasha! Could you tell this dude we need to work together?"

Natasha looked away from her conversation with the dark-skinned guy and raised an eyebrow. "What's the magic word?"

The guy scowled at whatever Natasha said.

"Fine, fine. **James, this is Clint. He's nice if you don't mind dick jokes -** " Bucky snorted " **\- and we need to work with in pairs for the first question, which is: 'discuss with a partner what you think the main cause of World War One was'.** " 

Both he and Clint gave Natasha grateful looks.

" **Oh, I get it.** Um. I am called Bucky."

Clint frowned, " **what?** " 

"I am call-ed Buck-y."

"Ah. Sorry 'bout that, it's just ... Bucky?"

Understanding he was being mocked, he scowled.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. **I name is Clint, I no talk.** "

Bucky smirked. "Yes."

Clint rolled his eyes and muttered something that was probably rude. He was liking Clint more and more.

"Okay, yeah, yeah, laugh it up, _Bucky_. We need to do this question."

He gave Clint a blank look.

"Ugh. For fuck sake ... Why did Natasha only teach me Russian swear words? We. Need. To. Answer. The. Question."

" **Oh. The question. Man, I hate History ... Uh, Hitler.** I think Hitler."

"Good. Yes. Hitler. What a dickhead. I'll write that down. No I won't: I'd get told off. Wait; who cares? Yeah ... **Thank you,** Bucky."

Bucky knew his answer was shit, and that they were probably supposed to look at all the events leading up to the War, but oh well.

At the end of the class, Clint touched his arm and got his attention again.

"Uh, so, I guess it probably sucks being in a different country and all, so, I thought ... D'you wanna be friends? God, I feel like I'm ten again.  **You, I, friends, yes?** "

Bucky was surprised at Clint's offer, as it seemed like he had been getting annoyed at him.

"Yes." For the first time since landing in America, He gave Clint a proper grin. Maybe he wouldn't be a lone for the next months.

Clint smiled back, feeling sorry for the poor bastard. Once you got past the lack of English, he wasn't too bad.

 

***

 

Next was Maths, which went better than European History. At least, Bucky understood what the teacher was saying - numbers were numbers, after all. They didn't change. And Natasha's boyfriend wasn't in this class, so she could whisper translations into his ear so he could take some notes. They were in Russian, but at least he was trying.

However, Maths in America was just as boring as Maths back home. The only exciting thing to happen all lesson was when a short guy corrected the teacher's working out. The teacher denied making a mistake, the guy - Stark - proved him wrong, and the teacher gave Stark a detention for talking back. Stark just smirked.

" **We're going to meet my friends in the refectories, 'kay?** " Natasha asked James, like he had anything better to do.

She liked James so far: he was polite and funny, and he hadn't stared at her boobs once - little luxuries. He followed her silently, sometimes raising an eyebrow at the younger students who were running around and shouting. He looked just like any other student at Marvel High School, maybe a little paler, maybe a little awkward, but she couldn't imagine him getting any shit for being foreign: he was tall and he looked strong from what she could see - his hoodie was over-sized - and he was attractive. Unless he had any unusual habits or was a prick, she wouldn't have to worry about getting him out of trouble; running after Steve on a righteous streak was stressful enough. Headmaster Fury had made it clear to her that James was on her watch; if he got into trouble, she would hold part of the blame. Ugh.

When they got to the refectories, Natasha had to stand on her tip-toes to look for Sam or Steve, who tended to be taller than everyone else in the room. She knew her friends would be nice to James, Clint had been getting on well with him in European History, and she hoped James would fit in despite the language barrier, seeing how she was stuck with him for the next few months. Finally, she saw a familiar face.

"Sam!"

Sam turned and grinned at her and James, "Hey Nat. You're James, right? I'm Sam, a friend of Natasha's."

" **Just a friend?** " James asked her with a sly smile. She glared. "Hello Sam. I am James, yes. Please name me Bucky."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. _God, his English was shit._

"All right, Bucky. Hey - Steve! Get your arse over here and meet Nat's new friend."

Bucky looked to see who Sam was talking to, as he hadn't understood what was being said. Standing there with his arms full with packets of chrisps and bottles of water was the hottest guy in the world. He was tall and broad-shouldered, yet he had a really thin waist. He had short blond hair and big blue eyes surrounded by thick lashes. He looked like an angel, and Bucky couldn't stop himself from thinking sinful thoughts at the sight of him.

The hot guy - Steve - gave Natasha an awkward, one-armed hug due to all the food he was holding.

"Do you have to eat so much?" She asked exasperatedly.

Steve blinked, "yes. Don't give me that look: I'm going to share. Hello, you must be James. Nice to meet you."

" **How the hell are you so fucking hot? Oh my god. Are you single? There are so many things I would do to you** **, shit.** " James stared at Steve.

Natasha choked on the air. _I guess that explains why he wasn't staring at my boobs._

Steve frowned, "What did he say?"

"Um ... " she narrowed her eyes at James, who was still checking Steve out, "he said it was nice to meet you too, and that he liked your top."

"Oh," Steve said, then turned and smiled at James, "thank you."

" **I don't know why you're thanking me, but I assure you: the pleasures all mine. Do you wanna fuck some time? 'Cos I do. God, you look do damn _earnest_ , I'd ride you like a pony ...** " James gave Steve a charming smile, and Natasha had to admit: it made him look really good.

"Uh, I don't speak Russian, sorry ... Nat, what did he say?"

"Nothing," she lied, then turned to James, " **can we talk for a minute?** "

He shrugged unapologetically. " **What, you don't think he's cute?** "

She rolled her eyes, " **of course I think he's cute - I'm not blind! I just really don't appreciate your gushing. It's immature and hopeless.** " 

He glared at her. " **Hopeless like your crush on Sam?** " He knew for sure Sam liked her back, but he didn't have anything else to use against her.

She gutted her chin out and curled her lip, " **I could get Sam to go out with me any time I wanted, I just don't want to yet.** "

" **Yeah?** " He raised an eyebrow in false scepticism, " **I bet I could get Steve to kiss me before you can get Sam to ask you out.** "

" **Are they your terms?** " She grinned menacingly.

" **Sure are. The winner gets ten dollars?** " He held out his hand. She shook it. They both kept straight faces until Bucky cracked, bursting out in laughter. Natasha soon joined him, snickering into her hand.

Sam and Steve looked at the two Russians, who had gone from being five seconds away from hitting each other to giggling hysterically.

"What," Sam said, meeting Steve's equally confused gaze, "the fuck?"

 

***

 

"What did you do?"

Bucky looked up from where he was typing up his History homework. He was stuck at school in the library until Brock Rumlow had finished his American Football training, or whatever the hell he was doing. After a few attempts of writing it out straight into English, he had given up and decided to do it in Russian, then Google Translate it into English and pray it was legible.

The short guy from Maths, Smith or Stark or something, was looking at him with a mixture of expectancy and slight awe.

Bucky cleared his throat, " **er ...** What?"

"I think you broke Nat. How did you do it? I've been trying for _years!_ She's been like a diamond or, or, or a fucking statue or some shit, for all of the time she's been here, and I tried, okay? I really tried to get her to freak out, to catch her off-guard, to make her look at me with anything other than contempt. Then, suddenly: bam! You come along and now she suddenly starts smiling her really creepy _I-know-more-than-you-and-I'm-planning-something_ smile of hers, and she comes up to me, honest to God, and says: 'Stark, you're a little bitch, but you have some pretty good pick-up lines. Write them out for me now.' And I do it. Like, what the hell? _Natasha Romanov_ asked me for - for _pick-up lines?_ Can you even understand a thing I'm saying? Like, sure, most normal people don't know what I'm saying half the time, but they either get the gist of it, or tell me to piss off or go talk science to Bruce. Are you getting this?"

Bucky gaped helplessly for a few seconds. Even if Stark had been talking at a regular human being pace, he doubts he would have understood what was being said anyway. He sighs, then pushes his laptop, which is on Google Translate, to Stark. Stark gets the idea, sitting down next to Bucky without any hesitation or politeness, and starts typing at about a hundred miles per hour.

Written, edited, and wrongly translated on the screen comes up with the following conversation:

**WHAT DID YOU DO TO NATASHA????????**

WHAT DO YOU MEAN

**SHE KEEPING LAUGHING AND SHIT. IT IS WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!**

IS SHE NOT PERMITTED TO LAUGH

**NO! SHE HAS NO EMOTIONS!! SHE ASKED ME FOR PICK-UP LINES!111!!! !!!**

Bucky started laughing, causing Stark to let out a frustrated groan.

I AM SURE EVERYTHING WILL COME TO LIGHT SOON ENOUGH

Tony, deciding he would declare a personal boycott on Russians everywhere, gave up trying to get a straight answer from ... Jack? John? Whatever. He would ask Pepper about it later - girls told each other everything, right? And he would have an excuse to talk to Pepper ...

 

***

 

The next day, Bucky found Natasha and Clint sitting on the floor outside of one of the English classrooms, legs obstructing the way for people trying to get pass. He doubted either of them cared too much about that.

He sat down opposite them, resting his legs in-between theirs, and grinned.

" **So, that's how you plan to win the bet - cheesy pick-up lines? Courtesy of Tony Stark, whom you think is a dick?** " She had told him just that during maths yesterday.

She gave him a terrifying smile, " **exactly.** "

"Um, what?" Clint said.

"Nothing," she turned and smiled sweetly at him, "if by 'nothing' I mean amazingly meticulous planning on my part."

"Oh, God, no," he groaned, "long words at eight in the morning. And don't be mean to the new kid."

"He made a bet against me."

"Really? Idiot. Be mean all you want, as a lesson."

She pursed her lips, "that, my dearest Clinton, is the plan. Want to help?"

"It would be my genuine pleasure."

" **Um, what?** " Bucky said. Natasha laughed.

 

***

 

After an hour of English - which was hell - and an hour of Drama - which was fun enough, bar him not having any words due to the whole not understanding what on earth was going on, Bucky followed Natasha to the refs.

" **Do we get to see your hot friend again? How come he isn't in any of your lessons?** " Bucky asked.

She rolled her eyes, " **Steve is only in my Games lessons. We have that this afternoon.** "

" **Cool,** " he said, " **hey - maybe I can impress him with my sporting talent?** "

Natasha snorted.

"Nat! And, er ... James! We're over here!" Sam waved them over to one of the tables, where he and Steve - who looked just as amazing as he did the day before - were sitting and sipping water bottles.

"I said call me Bucky," he said to Sam, then to Steve: " **but you, darlin', can call me whatever you want. Beside from Jimmy, or Sweetie-Pie; they're just stupid.** "

"Pardon?" Steve asked politely, and Natasha saw her chance. Her chance to win ten whole dollars off Bucky; pay him back for his ridiculous comments; and just maybe get Steve a good boyfriend - something he really deserves. 

"He said, 'are you an antiquer? Cause I have some junk that hasn't been touched in years.'"

The look on Sam and Steve's faces were priceless.

"I know, right? 'Antiquer' isn't even a word!"

Sam and Steve kept on staring.

Bucky frowned, " **Natasha ... what did you say?** "

She twirled a piece of her curly red hair around her finger, looking as innocent as she could while wearing all black. " **Don't worry; I didn't say what you said. Oh, look: there's Pepper! I needed to ask her about something.** Bye, guys!"

With that, she left.

"Um ... So ... Let's just presume that Nat was lying ... She's good at that ... I mean, I don't think she was, but ... " Sam coughed.

"Yeah, um. Bucky, do you like it in America so far?" Steve asked him, blushing slightly. 

"Yes. It is very good. The people are nice." He hoped his accent wasn't too bad.

"Great. That's cool. I bet you miss home, though?" 

"What?" He frowned.

Steve smiled apologetically, "sorry - I don't know any Russian, um ... You miss Russia? Home? Home-sick?"

"Oh!" Bucky gave Steve a small, shy smile. "Yes. My sister is home."

"I guess it must be tough not seeing her?" Steve asked, and Bucky kind of got the point.

"Yes. You have a sister?"

"No," Steve huffed a laugh, "Sam's family enough for me."

Sam put his arm around Steve's shoulders. Bucky thinks to himself that Sam must have hella long arms. 

"You bet I am, Rogers." Sam grinned, but there was something more serious underneath it.

"I don't ... " He made a frustrated noise. "I don't understand. Sorry."

"Hey, It's okay. That's why you're hear, huh? To learn." 

The buzzer went, and with it Sam and Steve, who had Geography. Bucky hadn't understood much of what Steve had said, but he could tell he was just as nice on the inside as he was on the inside. 

" **You ready, Bucky?** " Natasha appeared in-front of him, grinning wickedly. He narrowed his eyes.

" **I know you said something to Sam and Steve.** " He hesitated, before asking: " **Steve's adopted, isn't he?** " 

" **Yes. He lives with Sam and his folks.** " She gave him a side look, looked like she was about to say something, then changed her mind and sighed. " **C'mon. We have Maths.** "

He sighed, hoisted his bag onto his back, and they made their way to their Maths classroom. Hopefully Stark would get into a fight with the teacher again; that would make the lesson more bearable.

 

***

 

"What do ya think of Bucky?" Sam asked him, smirking.

Steve narrowed his eyes, "shut up. We can't know what he really said. And he seems fine."

"Yeah," Sam snorted. "If by 'fine', you mean _fiiiiiiiiiiiine._ "

Steve shoved him, while definitely not blushing one bit.

 

***

 

 It was almost Bucky's moment. His moment to prove himself. His moment to rise above the competition (he presumes he has competition for Steve's affections because, well, he's Steve). His moment to impress Steve with his talent in ...

" _ **American Football!?**_ " 

Natasha raised an eyebrow, " **duh. We kinda are in, y'know, America.** "

" **Don't you sass me, Honey, this is a very serious issue. How am I supposed to get Steve to swoon at my talents in a sport I have never played before!?** " He wailed.

" **I ... I honestly can't tell whether you're being serious or not. I don't ... Was that _really_ your plan? How can you even ... Whatever.  Just - Stop being so melodramatic and get your arse into the boys' changing room.**" 

" **Yes, Miss. Right away, Miss.** " He gave her a jaunty salute and an carefree grin, before braving the treacherous unknown that is the boys' changing room. Not for the first time, he was glad he didn't have asthma. He probably would've had an attack from all the deodorant spray in the air. He got changed quickly into a vest top that made his arms look awesome, if he may say so himself, and sports shorts. He shoved his feet into his ratty old Nikes and left the room before he fainted from the stench of sweat. He was so glad there were showers for after. He saw that girls and boys did Games in different groups, so he didn't have Natasha to talk to. Bummer. Who was he supposed to pair with if she wasn't-

"Yo! **Hello! Bucky!** Over here! Watch it: short-ish, I'll admit, but strong person coming through - Hey, dude. Um, **How are you?** " Clint pushed his way to in-front of him, earning a few glares and insults - not that that seemed to bother him. 

Bucky grinned at him, "Hi. You do Games with me?"

"Yep," Clint popped the 'p', "the whole year does now. **Yes.** "

"Nice. **You wanna be partners again?** Like in History?"

"Sure. I'll warn you though: I suck at Football. I prefer Archery."

"Oh." Bucky deduced what Clint said, and was relieved. He wouldn't be the only bad one here. " **Wait,** Archery?"

"Damn right, Archery! I'm the best in the State for our age group." Clint grinned proudly.

"I - wow. That is brilliant!" 

"Glad someone think so. There's Sam 'n' Steve. Let's go say 'hi.'"

"Yes!" Did he sound too enthusiastic? Probably. Did he care? Not particularity. 

"Hey Clint, Bucky." Sam nodded.

"Hi. Haven't seen you much lately, Clint." Steve said.

"Yeah, well, you know me. Always anywhere and everywhere. You've met Bucky, right?" Clint knew they had, but Natasha's instructions had been very clear. He pushed Bucky closer to Steve. Bucky said something with a lot of swearwords, but it sounded more like gushing than insults. Clint could practically see the love-hearts in his eyes as he looked at Steve. 

"What did he say ... ?" Sam asked, sounding innocent enough, but the look in his eyes begged the differ - he could see just how star-struck Bucky was, even if Steve couldn't. 

Clint grinned, remembering his favourite of the pick-up lines Stark had written for Natasha. "He said, bearing in mind my Russian's a little rusty: 'I don't need a spoonful of sugar to swallow you down'. Huh, so Mary Poppins is universal. I didn't know that ..."

Sam burst out laughing, clutching at his side. Steve started to blink rapidly. Bucky narrowed his eyes and turned to him.

" _What did you say?_ " Shit. Has Bucky always been this tall?

" **Nothing. Nothing. Just a joke. Okay?** " Bucky looked at him doubtfully, but before any of them could say anything, Coach Coulson ordered them to do some laps, and Clint took the opportunity to escape awkward questions.

The rest of the lesson passed without any disruptions. Bucky was a good learner, and had quite an arm on him. He only tripped about twice. Steve was totally impressed by his skills. He could tell by the way he didn't speak to him once the whole afternoon. Clint just couldn't wait to report to Natasha after school.

 

***

 

Sam opened his mouth, a smile already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

" _Don't you dare._ " Steve hissed.

 

***

 

An evening at the Rumlow's usually went something like this:

Mr and Mrs Rumlow would sit in-front of the TV watching either reality TV or sports, depending on the night. Mrs Rumlow would tear herself away from the TV once or twice a night, to make them all a meal to be taken to wherever they pleased ('just don't make a mess,' Mrs Rumlow warned.' or to go to the toilet. Mr Rumlow would sometimes go down to the local pub with his friends, but only if he was up-to-date on all of his favourite shows. Brock Rumlow - who was a year older than Bucky, in his final year of High School - was hardly ever home, preferring to spend most of his time at his mates houses' or with his girl-of-the-week. He had been nice enough to Bucky so far, but from what Natasha had said, he had himself a reputation as a bully around school.

It wasn't home, not by a long shot, but it wasn't horrible. The Rumlow's had damn good WiFi, and were going to take him to see his first ever Baseball match in a few weekends time. Still, when Clint invited him over after school that day, Bucky didn't hesitate to say yes.

"It's not much," Clint said, kicking the front door open, " 's only me 'n my brother. My brother and I. Wait; why am I correcting my English around you? You hardly know what any of us are saying anyway. Ah well. So, as I was saying, my brother is a lot older than me. He works 'til late. You want a beer?"

"Yes please," Bucky had taken the time to learn all possible alcoholic drinks in English, legal or not. Clint walked into a small-ish kitchen that was just off to the side of the living room. It wasn't big by any means, but it was homey.

"The house is good." Bucky said, sitting down on a old yet comfortable couch.

"Hell yes it it," Clint grabbed the TV remote and flopped down next to him, before passing him a can of beer. " **Watch television or play video-games?** " 

Bucky hadn't played video-games since he left Russia, " **video-games,** **definitely.** "

Bucky and Clint played Mario Cart until Bucky's curfew, cheating and swearing and insulting the whole time. Bucky hadn't laughed so much before beside the time Rebecca tried to dye her hair blonde and it ended up ginger.  

 

***

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

I DEEM BUCKY WORTHY OF STEVE. AS LONG AS HE THINKS WITH HIS BRAIN RATHER THAN HIS PANTS -C

JESUS CHRIST, CLINT, YOU SOUND LIKE THOR -N

THE NORWEGIAN EXCHNGE STUDNT WIT ARMS LIK TREE TRUNKS? TLKS LIK A CHARACTR FROM A SHAKESPEARE PLAY? GEE, THNXS, NAT. THTS LIKE THE FRST TIME U HAV EVR COMPLEMENTED ME EVR -C

SHUT UP. I CAN BE NICE. ASK STEVE. AND WOULD IT KILL YOU TO USE VOWELS? -N

MOST PROBLY, LETS NOT RSK IT. INVALID AND BIASED. STEVE THINKS EVRYONE IS NICE -C

BAR STARK -N

WELL, THT JUST GOES WITOUT SAYIN -C

YOU REALLY THINK SO? THE WORTHY THING -N

HE'S A DICK N THE MORNIN. OTHR THN THT, HES COOL -C

MORNING? -N

HE SLEPT OVR LST NGHT -C

;D ;D ;D ;D -N

-.- -.- -.- -C

:P -N

:P -C

YOU'RE STILL GONNA HELP WITH THE BET THOUGH, RIGHT? -N

OMG INCORECT GRAMER OMG!!!!!! AND YEAH DUH-C

-.- -N

WHY IS THAT SO JUDGEMENTAL COMMIN FROM U? -C

>:) -N

......... OK IM JUST GONNA RUN FOR MY LIFE BYE XXXXXX -C

BYE XXXXXX -N

 

***

 

Bucky had made a _friend;_ a sarcastic, foul-mouthed, Mario-Cart-cheating, friend who only knows about ten words in Russian, half of them swearwords - but a friend none the less. He hadn't had to make a friend since he was, like, seven. He lived in a small town back home, and people tended to stay in one place while they grew up, so the people around him never really changed. When you're young, all you have to do is say 'hi, cool toy, can I play too?' and voilà, you had a friend for life.

When you're a teenager it's different, you have to fit in, you have to understand references - foreign or not - and make jokes and be interesting. Back home he had a reputation of being friendly to everyone, flirting with everyone, talking to everyone; how was he supposed to do that in a language he had been learning for only two years? God, Rebecca would smack his arm and tell him to stop over-thinking things if she were here.

Yet, Clint had been nice, he'd given him beer and not made fun of his accent once, unlike what some of the guys in the hallways had done at school. Bucky had told Clint about his (hopeless) crush on Steve, and Clint had looked a bit guilty for a second, before laughing and telling him about the time he had asked Natasha out while drunk and woke up handcuffed to a streetlamp wearing only his smiley-face boxers, via Google Translate. He smiled fondly at the memory, which wasn't worrying at all.

Bucky had gone back to the Rumlow's house when he could handle going outside without sunglasses on, with Clint's number in his phone. Brock had asked him something with a leer that Bucky didn't understand, so he just smiled and made himself some toast, before going to his room to catch up on his sleep - Mario Cart was surprisingly addictive.

 

***

 

The weekend passed way too quickly, and then Bucky was at school again. Natasha had texted him to say she was sick and told him what lessons he had to look forward to. He was ten minutes late to History, as he had forgotten since the last time on his first day, and while he had tried to explain this to Mr Phillips, he didn't have the right words in English, and Clint tried to step in and try to translate, and then Sam was talking too, and Mr Phillips barked something at them, and by the time Bucky had managed to get to his seat, all three of them had break-time detentions. That set the tone for the rest of the lesson, which passed excruciatingly slowly as Bucky glared at the clock.

When Mr Phillips held them back, he explained to them that they were going to write lines - how old-fashioned was this guy? - which Bucky understood perfectly, but he kept his eyes wide and blinked innocently, and said things like 'pardon, Sir?' and 'I am sorry'; eventually Mr Phillips sighed and growled, grumbling something that caused Bucky and Sam to grin, and they grabbed him by both his arms and pulled him out of the room.

"Thanks, Bucky!" Sam laughed.

"I can't believe ... Has anyone _ever_ gotten out of a detention from Phillips?" Clint, whatever he was saying, sounded impressed.

"Not even _Natasha ..._ " Sam said, before stopping and smiling over his head.

 "Not even Natasha what?" There Steve was, smiling and looking amused and kissable with his sexy low voice and ugh.

Okay, look: Buckly knew his crush was ridiculous. From what he had seen of Steve so far he could tell he was nice, he was friendly, but other than that Bucky had no idea what Steve really was like. It was hard to make small talk when you didn't understand what was being said; but hell, Bucky had this ... urge in his stomach to try, to find out all about Steve, his likes and dislikes and talents and hobbies and peeves, language be damned. Bucky wanted to know the guy beneath the amazingly hot exterior.

 "Bucky got us outta detention with Phillips," Clint explained.

Steve blinked, " _what?_ "

"That's what I said!" Sam agreed.

"But ... We've never ... " Steve still seemed confused; what was it Bucky had done?

" _I know,_ " Clint said. "Turns out you have to be Russian and cute to get outta one."

" _But Natasha,_ " Sam said, which Bucky understood, but he didn't expand.

" _We know._ " Steve and Clint said. Bucky was starting to become seriously worried about them.

" **What about Natasha? What do you know? Why are all American people crazy as fuck?** " Bucky asked, nonplussed.

"What?" Sam said.

"He said very mean things about our intelligence, the hypocrite, Mr 'what-are-Lucky-Charms?', but then said that Steve was cute enough to get outta detention" Clint smirked. Steve blushed, and Sam rolled his eyes - Natasha had told him all about her and Bucky's little bet.

"What?" Bucky asked.

" **We are talk you stupid.** " Clint said. Bucky stuck his tongue out at him, who returned the gesture. 

"Er ... okay. Mature, guys. Steve, what do we have next?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Um, maths, I think." Steve said, and the buzzer went.

" **What do I have?** " Bucky wondered out loud.

"English lessons." Clint said without missing a beat.

" **How the fuck do you know that?** " Bucky blinked.

"Nat texted me your timetable for when you forgot to look at your phone." Clint replied, walking away from the rest of them.

"What?" Bucky called after him, but he had already left.

"So ... we better get going, then, Sam." Steve sounded reluctant: who can blame him, _maths_.

"Yeah ... " Sam said, then he and Steve seemed to have a silent conversation which Sam won, somehow.

"Buck, d'you need directions? To English." Steve asked him.

"What?" Bucky had understood enough, but he liked talking to Steve. Sue him.

 **"Directions.** Help. English. Lesson." Steve said very slowly and clearly, causing Bucky to snort.

"Yes, thank you." He smiled at Steve, who smiled back. Sam sighed, and started walking.

 

***

 

Here's what Bucky learns about Steve on the walk from the History hallway to his English (ugh) lesson, using hand-gestures and miming and charade-worthy-acting: Steve plays American Football for the school team (why wasn't he surprised?); Steve liked old jazz music as well as whatever was on the radio on any said week (Bucky could only comment that he liked Louis Armstrong's song _It's Been A Long, Long Time,_  but made a note to himself to check out some more stuff when he got back to the Rumlow's); Steve's favourite lesson was Art (Sam groaned and muttered something about Steve needing to get out more); and that Steve ran a chess club every Tuesday after-school. Bucky joined up straight away, because why the fuck not? He entered his English lesson grinning like an idiot, still chuckling at some stupid joke Sam cracked.

" **So nice for you to finally join us, Mr Barnes,** " drawled the English teacher, who happened to be Fury. Fury had made it clear last lesson that this was the only class he taught, due to how multi-lingual he was.

Bucky smirked, " **the pleasure's all mine, Sir, as always.** "

Fury huffed and glared at him, before nodding to where Bucky was to sit. It was a small class, with only himself, Thor and Loki - two brothers who looked nothing alike from Norway - who spoke Norwegian natively and perfect English anyway, twin brother and sister from eastern Europe somewhere, an African dude who only knew 'hello' and 'shit' in English, and ... Tony Stark, apparently. What the hell? Bucky sat next to him, as per Fury's directions, and frowned at him.

"Have you ever been told you look deadly when you do that suspicious-eye-thing like that? Seriously, what did I do? I haven't done anything offensive since, like, seven minutes ago." Stark whispered.

"What you here?" Bucky whispered back.

"Oh," Stark grinned, " _am I not welcome? I'm hurt,_ Bucky-Bear."

"What?" Bucky said, recognising another language. The he translated the last part, " _what?_ "

Stark rolled his eyes, whipped his phone out and started typing under the desk as Fury started a presentation on irregular verbs in English. Stark handed his phone to Bucky, who noticed how new and sleek it was. He wondered if Stark was rich.

**I SPEAK ITALIAN AND USE THAT AS AN EXCUSE TO PISS FURY OFF IN MY FREE PERIODS**

Bucky raised his eyes in amusement and handed Stark his phone back. It became clear that Stark wasn't just joking; he asked Fury - who had to repeat himself in six different languages every time he finished a sentence - to go over things he'd said, then try and helpfully refer to which point he meant by saying things like 'it sounded like a fish rapping', or 'if a monkey could yodel', then say 'no, not _that_ bit, before then'. Tony wasn't ashamed to admit he enjoyed the shade Fury's skin turned the longer the lesson went on, and Bucky started joining in when Fury got to the Russian part. It was always more fun making a menace of yourself when someone else was working with you.

"Oi, Barnes," Stark said at the end of the lesson.

"What?" Bucky said.

"Party at my house this weekend; you're coming. No objections." Stark said.

"W-what?" Bucky didn't think he heard right.

"Oh, for God's sake ... " Tony rolled his eyes. "Look: I'll just, um, text you the details later. Bye."

With that, he left. Bucky had a feeling Stark - Tony - was just as bad at making friends as he was.

 

***

 

" **Are you fucking serious?** "

Natasha somehow managed to look threatening while wrapped in about a ton of blankets, hair messy, forehead sweaty, wearing Disney pyjamas and croaking her words out when she talked. Clint and Bucky were sitting crossed-legged on the end of her bed, Clint spoon-feeding her tomato soup and Bucky painting her toenails red because he was bored and Natasha couldn't summon they energy to kick him off. Natasha had a big double bed, so they weren't completely cramped together, which took up most of her room. Despite it's small-ish size, it was a nice room with a big window and lots of natural light. Natasha had obviously spent a lot of time personalising it, the walls covered in pictures of celebrities and bands Bucky didn't recognise, with some paintings too. Bucky wanted to ask about them, because he recognised people from school on them, and Natasha didn't strike him as an arty person.

When Clint and him had showed up, she had grumbled something about 'stupid, intruding friends' and 'can't a girl have five minutes to herself?' - apparently, Sam and Steve had visited her straight after school, while Bucky had to wait for Clint's archery practice to end. He was a little bummed that he missed out on seeing Steve - and Sam was pretty cool and good company - but oh well. Back to the problem at hand: why was Natasha angry at him and how did he make it stop?

" **Uh, yes. Why are you looking at me like that?** " Bucky never ceased to find America and it's inhabitants confusing.

" _ **You're going to a Stark party?!**_ " Natasha wailed.

"Did you say 'Stark party'?" Clint sounded worried.

" **Yes, I am. So I take it you don't want to come with me ...?** " Bucky offered again. 

" **Stark's parties are infamous! There is going to be a shit ton of alcohol and drugs someone sneaked in and loud, bad music!** " Natasha's voice broke at the end, and she started a coughing fit.

" **Shit - are you okay? And _I don't get why those are bad things._** " Bucky gave her a glass of water that was on the bedside table.

"No way in hell are we going to one of his parties. Never again ..." Clint said, and him and Natasha shuddered at the memory.

" **Fine!** " Bucky threw his arms into the air, realising his defeat. " **I'll ask Steve to go with me.** " 

Natasha choked on her water, then translated what he said to Clint, who sloshed some soup onto Natasha's sheets from snorting too hard. What lovely, encouraging people.  

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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